Mim draws a fish

Mim drew a fish and it brought Mexico back to me when I really needed to remember it most. I hadn't visited it in my mind in some time. It has been longer still since I thought about the fish, and my lovely reef.

The world is full of many things, and all are important things to be sure. But, the memory of playing with a parrot fish under a pier in Mexico, that is a prize beyond compare. Thanks Mim, for jogging my memory.

Zooming in on my way out

Back from Austin today-off to sunny Tijuana tomorrow.

Some of my carefully planned foodage was fed to a pride of wild kittens that lived near the condo where we stayed. Said feral cats feasted on gourmet chicken and salmon, but this morning there were 8 of them and the cat food I bought on Saturday was long gone. The deer were miffed that the kittens were fed first, but it turned out well and the biggest buck ate from my hand again.

Lots to digest (mentally) from this trip, but right now I have to wash some under garments and try and pick the last few prickly pear spines from my fingers and palms. I arrived back at my house at 8 pm and promptly began feeding lizards, snake cage cleaning and listening to the cat yowl about how she was neglected and mistreated while I was away. I gave her a nice yummy bit of tripe and whipped out a new cat bed I had saved for such a moment-bribery works well with old cats as well as small children.

I'm going for my first "fill" and my first weigh in since I had surgery. Last week I was nervous about it all, today I am just too tired. 1200 miles in 4 days will do that to a person.

Remember that I was concerned about telling people about my surgery? Turns out I needn't have worried-Mom and Dad have told ALL the neighbors (current) and today at lunch they told their former neighbors in Waco. News of my lap band surgery, done in MEXICO no less, has spread now to both coasts and the heartland.

And quite frankly, I don't care. All the memories of diet success and failures are just that. Today is today, and the past is just well, gone. And sticks and stones may break my bones and all that. Trauma and drama-be gone.

Head In the Sand

Once upon a time I went to Mexico with a couple who were about to be divorced. Only one of the couple knew it, and me. A strange time was had by all.

I feel the same way about the upcoming trip. I'm taking my parents down to Austin (which doesn't thrill them at all) and to Houston to see the Grandkids and back to Waco to see an old neigbhor (which does thrill them). Even if I don't talk with my mother about "the issue" until afterward, I already know it's going to happen.

Once upon a time I ran away from these self same people (my parents, not the couple in Mexico). I moved with my BF into a Serro Scotty (go back and read the beginnng of the blog). I was trying so hard to get away from THEM. And now I am trying so hard to figure out how to keep them around a little bit longer.

All the distance and indulgences and jobs and things of import I have carefully put between us are pretty much gone.

A little over a year ago I lived in Dallas, I had a nice paying job, I traveled a lot and I talked to my parents once a week or so. Often I called them from where ever I was. Now I live two houses down, I don't have a "real job" and we can no longer avoid what is happening.

To add a layer of weirdness, I knew it was happening, or I thought so. This was why I moved back to Oklahoma. There has to be bonus points in there somewhere for walking into it when you knew it was going to be bad.

Piercings and snacks

I got my nose pierced and it looks lovely! I've always liked my nose, one of the few things I do like about my body. I also got a piercing high up on my right ear-my left ones never heal, so I am going to give the right ear a go. Never say die.

I'm answering a lot of horse e-mails and I'm ready to go back home now and get moving again on my life. Of course, I still don't have a clue what I'm supposed to do with my life, or how I'm supposed to make money or find time to do all the things I want to do plus all the things I need to do plus all the things I should do.

Sue found the most wonderful yogurt dill soup at Whole Foods today-it reminded me of Mexico. Poor, poor Yucatan Penninsula is getting pounded-please say a prayer for our lovely reef and beaches.

Traveling with "the band" has proven not to be a big deal. As long as I can find a Starbucks I have liquid protein (latte, non fat) and solid protein (almonds). The other fast food pickens are slim-Taco Bell has the all important pintos and cheese, KFC the mashed potatoes. But really, anything involving breakfast will contain enough eggs that you can scrape off. 7-11 has cheese and nuts. It IS easier to pack some things (I have nuts for the plane ride back) and stick to water. Any beverage besides water has a ton of calories-even the fruit juices on the plane.

I personally don't like most mass marketed yogurts-I'm a fage girl all the way!

Was that a nervous twinge?

Really no more so than the usual realization there is no way I am going to get everything I want done that I wanted to do before ANY trip.

I NEED trips-they are the only way I can shut things off. Out of sight, out of mind. Well not really, but I give myself permission not to worry about it. Yeah, yeah-TRUE freedom would mean being able not to worry about it when I'm HOME...but I am merely a fledgling in the Don't Worry, Be Happy frame of mind.

In a few minutes I will go water Mom's precious tomato so it doesn't perish while we are both gone. They get back on Friday, so it should be ok.

Confession time. Mom gave me a tomato and I put it on the table by the front door. The doorbell rang, I banged into the table as I was opening the door. I was so excited by the sight of my traveling books that I grabbed them up, turned around and, oh, the horror, stepped on the tomato with my orthopedic boot. (I was wearing the boot because I was going to wrangle snakes and needed the extra support).

Yes, I stepped on a home grown tomato. Mom is growing the tomato in a garden cart I gave her while the Hammerschlammer whoever high tech grow your own tomatos anywhere contraption rattles around in the back of my truck. So, in addition to moving here too late in the growing season, I have now defiled a tomato.

I really paused for a moment-hoping it wasn't a sign. But, I decided that it meant the shell of my former self is being squashed into a new form. Ok, yeah, I'm a little nervous.

Almost Last Supper

Not really-there is no last supper-just a 24 hour clean out period-but I'm laying off the fatty stuff and have since the "last" supper at Jakes.

Every doctor is different-but I have to say that I think the liver shrinking torture test that some folks are put through is just another way to get a last jab in a demean fat people. Psycho babble would say it's making you "want it" and "work" for it, but you are asking a 300 pound person to perform something that they have documented in excruciating and humiliating detail that they are unable to do. What's that about?

No one made me jump through hoops like a trained dog when I had my gall bladder removed-and this surgery is very similiar. Of course, then I was "thin" having just medifasted myself down to a respectable weight.

Why do I feel the need to point out that I don't weigh 300 pounds, that that was just an example? What difference would it make it I did? Wanna know how much I weight? Hah, fat chance. I never tell-it's a very private thing to me, the actual number.